


DARE

by zeski



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Adaptation, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Drinking & Talking, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Smoking, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21559837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeski/pseuds/zeski
Summary: Introverted theatre lover Zayntotally doesn'thave a crush on classmate and resident bad boy, Liam Payne. After he gives Liam a ride home one night, they end up in Liam's swimming pool and have an encounter that changes their view of each other.
Relationships: Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 77





	DARE

**Author's Note:**

> Accompanying [moodboard](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/post/189324467237/dare-by-zeski-language-english-words-53k).
> 
> This story is based on Dare (2005), a short film that's been a favourite of mine for a long time. It's gained a sequel recently (14 years later, same cast), and so I decided to revisit this classic with a Z/L version of it.

DARE

_Don't look at him. Don't look at him. Don't look at him!_

If only his eyes could follow such a simple order. Zayn knows what he should and _shouldn't_ do. Everything is unambiguously categorised in his mind. What he should do is put his books away, and get ready for rehearsal. What he shouldn't do is let his eyes wander about the corridor.

And yet...

It's a spell. A counter order from which he cannot escape. He doesn't need to turn around to know who this laugh belongs to— he knows it well. No other presence in this school prompts these very chills down his spine. No other person matches this particular combination of cologne and laughter his senses have memorised.

And maybe it wouldn't be an issue for close friends or lovers, but Zayn's afraid that neither word define him and Liam.

Scrap that. There's a word—to define Liam from Zayn's perspective—and it comes down to certain thoughts about the two of them. Thoughts that range from innocent to scandalous. Let's put it this way: he's seen Liam's chivalry, and the locker room has fed him imaginary scenarios he wouldn't dare to admit out loud.

Okay, okay. There might be a chance this guy affects Zayn a bit. 'Bit' being a lie to (try to) keep some sort of agency over his own feelings. _Something_ has to be under his control, since these vivid dreams featuring Liam—as well as his groin—aren't.

Like Zayn fears he would, he lets his eyes wander to Liam. Unabashedly so, too. Without his open locker for a crutch, he can't even pretend he isn't watching. He watches and watches. It's hard— _impossible_ —not to. He's beckoned to a smile capable of lighting up the Wembley Arena, to that beauty mark barely concealed by the uniform's collar.

Personally, Zayn prefers the fluffy curls from a year and a half ago. He still remembers that fateful day Liam ditched his straighteners. Such a glorious day, such a blessed decision.

That's not to say the current quiff doesn't suit Liam, though. _Anything_ looks good on him, and here it's hard to tell where Zayn's bias ends and where Liam's charm begins. Both are sizeable, so Zayn goes with that good, old Liam magic.

The popular cliques that now swarm on Liam are evidence. It's just shitty that those people needed a new haircut to notice something clear as the day. To Zayn, anyway.

"What you're looking at, Billy no mates?!"

Michael's voice cuts Zayn's daydream short. It takes him a moment to realise that he's been caught red-handed, and who knows for how long. Except for Liam and Holly, everyone is glaring at him: Andy, Andy's girlfriend, and Michael, who acts like Andy's bodyguard.

Like Holly has once aptly put it, _"Andy can't fart without Michael being there to smell it."_ Zayn has trouble not laughing in their faces since then.

They all stare, and it wrings Zayn's stomach. Holly has a pitiful look, though that's expected. Because, even if Zayn hasn't opened up to her, she's sussed him out each and every time since they were eight. Although she's never confronted him about it, she regularly gives him cues to let it all out.

As for Liam... he has that frown where his eyebrows almost become one. It's the same look he has in class before asking a question. Which is one Zayn doesn't mind, but that also freezes his blood solid in this particular scenario.

Zayn shakes his head, then averts his eyes. He could reply to that, yes. Only if he had something relevant to say, and _"I was looking at Liam, not you"_ isn't that. Not if he doesn't want people calling him 'weird' more than they already do.

He turns around and leave. _It's better this way._

#

"Stay back! If you take one more step—" Holly snatches a champagne bottle off the table, her makeshift mace. "I'm warning you! Stay back!"

"Drop the bottle. Drop it." Liam orders, grabbing her arm and pulling her close. "You know— Uhh... I'm—"

Nothing else comes. Liam ducks his head for a second, then pouts, mouthing 'sorry' to someone off stage. It's sufficient to earn a grin from Zayn behind the spotlight. It's hard to not smile when Liam smiles, and even harder is to resist the puppy look.

Not Mrs. Fletcher, though. Zayn can't see her from his position, but he knows that choppy clapping too well. It's the same frantic, exasperated clapping that means she's lost her patience. Which... isn't much to begin with. Just ask anyone around the school.

"What happened here, Mr. Payne?" a surly female voice asks. A few seconds later, a tall woman enters Zayn's field of vision, her heels clicking across the floor. "Care to share with us?"

Liam sucks his bottom lip in, dropping his gaze to his feet. "Sorry, Mrs. Fletcher. I got distracted."

"So did I by your utter inability to remember a few lines," she retorts, hands on her hips. "You have two days to learn them. Do it, and we won't need a _replacement_ for the male lead." She claps her hands twice, her several bracelets clinking together with the gesture. "We're done! Crew dismissed!"

Holly also tells Liam something, though Zayn can't hear her from up here. Unlike Mrs. Fletcher, she doesn't project her voice when talking normally. Whatever she says, Liam's smile falters as she replaces the prop on the table and leaves.

Fortunately, before Zayn makes the mistake of butting in, Liam looks in his direction. Rather, Liam looks towards the spotlight, shielding his eyes with one hand. Zayn tardily remembers he's supposed to turn the spotlight off and does it. A bad decision, really. Because now it's just him and Liam in the empty theatre, staring at each other.

Liam shakes his head and leaves. Zayn is grateful for the silence. Those knitted eyebrows contain a question, and he's scared to ever hear it. Neither of them are ready. Won't ever be, most likely.

Be it nerves or his bladder, he goes to the loo. It should give him time to leave and not cross paths with Liam. It's a precaution, if he's honest. In case those questioning eyebrows are still around and up for interrogation.

Little did he know he would find Liam and Holly arguing in the car park.

"For fuck's sake, Liam!" Holly shouts, jabbing a finger at Liam's chest. "Learn your bloody lines on your own!"

"Holland! Wait, you're—" Liam still tries to call after her, but resigns to a quieter tone "—supposed to give me a lift today."

Call Zayn barmy, but this is a chance. This is _the_ chance, to be exact. If luck has ever smiled at him, this is it. That's why he's run into Liam when he's tried to avoid him. It's him and Liam and they can talk. _Actually_ talk.

This is a sign, if he's seen one in this life. He'd prefer a _HE LIKES YOU TOO! JUST TALK TO HIM!_ neon sign above Liam's head, but he's in no position to be picky.

He approaches Liam slowly. "I can help you with your lines... if you want?"

 _Already started with the wrong foot._ Why he's made it sound like a question is beyond him, really. Things don't look much better when Liam faces him with a frown.

"Light boy!" Liam exclaims, and his eyes widen up upon recognising Zayn. "You can really help me? Like, for real, _real?_ "

"For real, real." It's so hard not to smile, but somehow Zayn manages it. "I can give you a lift, too."

Liam's eyes close and his balled fists shake. "I love you for saving my life, mate."

It's a good start. Well, ignoring that Zayn at first walks them in the wrong direction, too dazed by Liam's smile, that is. And definitely a real good start when he points the right direction and Liam laughs.

How he wishes he could be the source of that laugh more often.

#

Like Liam's house, Liam's pool is huge. An indoor pool encased in glass, worthy of a five-star hotel. It's large enough to accommodate the Malik clan, and Zayn's sure his family _isn't_ small.

However, they're not here for the pool. They're here to go over Liam's lines. That's what they're doing, and that's Zayn's task tonight. It's still hot, anyway. With some luck, Liam will take his top off, or even want to rehearse the kiss scenes. It's a sacrifice Zayn's willing to make.

All in the name of art, of course.

"Should this be here?" Zayn picks up a real bottle of champagne from an ice bucket, checking the label. It's just one of the few immersed in the ice. "This costs _a lot_."

"Take a sip. It's chilling there," Liam replies. He simultaneously places his bag down and loosens up his tie. "Go on. Pick one."

Albeit unsure, Zayn does as told. He doesn't drink of any bottle, but he does pick one that's been already opened. (He's not popping open something that costs more than his entire wardrobe, if he's honest.)

"Drop the bottle," Liam orders. Zayn turns around with a leap, and finds that he's under a piercing gaze. "Drop it. We both know this is an excuse for a date."

"Wha'?!"

"It's the line I forgot." Liam breaks into a smile, waving a rolled up script. "You know, earlier."

A puff of air escapes Zayn's lips and his shoulders sag. "Oh."

Well, it's been nice for half a minute. It would be silly to expect Liam to suddenly confirm this is a date, when it's not. Whilst nice, the thought of snogging isn't more likely than any of his wet dreams. But Liam is here, so that's already more than Zayn will ever get from his dreams.

"It will help with your lines," he tells Liam, bringing the bottle to his lips and flipping it over. He chugs for a few seconds, under Liam's gaze, then passes it over. "To relax a bit, and shit."

And Liam? He does accept it. His cocked eyebrows slowly go down, then he's... smiling? It's a tiny smile, isn't it? Zayn wants to believe it is. An amused smile that he's prompted. There's no one else around, so it _is_ for him.

"I hope I'm not corrupting you," Liam says, and yes, it's a full-blown smile. "Holland's gonna kill me. She'll just— she'll cut off my unmentionables and feed the wolves!"

The only thing to distract Zayn from 'unmentionables' is Liam's lips. How they move to every, jutting at the words. It's also the way they partially wrap around the rim of the bottle. Way too enticing, and not at all as entertaining as Zayn's mind makes it to be. But again, what Zayn imagines those lips on things are not cold, lifeless bottles.

Fuck, he's staring again. _This gonna be a disaster._

Eventually, the buzz of alcohol plays its part. They're not drunk, but they're not as tensed up, either. Zayn knows he's not, at least. He supposes it's the same for Liam, who now has his shirt unbuttoned down to his navel. There's an odd, _not-quite_ comfort about this atmosphere.

"It's a... Wait, wait. I know this one!" Liam protests, spinning a football in the air and catching it again. He holds it for a moment, banging it against his forehead. "Uhh... I guess I don't."

Zayn chuckles. "Wanna take a break?"

Despite his suggestion, Zayn doesn't want a break. Since Liam's lying down on a lounge chair, his voice comes out more breathy and urgent. Must be the same voice he has in the mornings. If not raspy from sleep, then it's his afterglow voice. That tired voice you get after a good edging session.

So, yeah, Zayn doesn't want it to stop yet. If possible, he wants to hear his name in this voice for longer. Too bad that Liam takes his suggestion. Not so bad that Liam strips down to his underwear.

Zayn takes another sip from the bottle. Watching Liam undress from behind isn't as reckless. No more than the times he's been caught staring, for sure. He laments that the white boxers stay on, but no matter— white articles are also interesting when wet.

Liam's form swims close to the bottom, emerging again on the other end of the blue pool.

"Jump in!" he urges, sweeping his hair sideways. "Don't be shy, Light Boy!"

Zayn crouches down, placing the bottle beside him. With his hand now empty, he dips it in the water, tiny waves forming around his fingers. "It's cool, bro."

"Aww, shy Light Boy!" Liam teases, and it's nowhere as hostile as Andy or Michael addressing him. There's an underlying warmth and familiarity never present in the others' tones. "I've heard the rumours. That thing of yours is nothing to be ashamed, bro!"

One, when has Liam ever paid attention to Zayn? Two, even if he's not one to brag, he knows Liam isn't lying. That's about the only good gossip Zayn has about him. Even if it's mostly guys claiming that's _"a wasted gift on a loser that shags no one."_

 _Fuck it._ Just to be safe, he strips with his back turned to Liam. It's easier to conceal pestering tents, and once underwater, he'll be safe. He's too busy blocking out Liam's wolf whistling, anyway. It may be banter, but still his pants stir.

When Zayn finally emerges, Liam is already there. Of course he is. He can't teleport away or become foam, but it still hits Zayn that they're semi-naked, in a pool, and _alone_. Completely and dauntingly alone.

"Want a cig?" Liam asks, waddling to the rim. He bends over it to retrieve something from his trousers, flashing Zayn the outline of his wet bottom. "Trying to stop, but... y'know."

That explains why a cigarette stick pops out of a battered iPod. It's never pretty to be caught with drugs in their school. Liam must be the adventurous kind, but he's not daft. Entirely, he isn't. Because Zayn must admit it is a bit stupid to risk a visit to headteacher's office.

"Where's the loo?" Zayn asks, once he manages to peel his eyes off Liam's backside. The blank stare he receives is silently questioning him, so he adds, "I have to take a wee."

A shrug rolls off Liam's shoulder, as he resumes lighting up his cigarette. The second time he spares Zayn a glance, it's to jut his bottom lip at some garden statues.

"Pee over there."

Zayn frowns. "You want me to pee in the bushes?"

"Problem?" Liam takes a drag, exhaling smoke upwards next.

 _Several_ problems that Zayn prefers to not disclose. For starters, he knows Liam is challenging him. The edge in his words doesn't go unnoticed. It's always there, pushing at Zayn's limits, daring him. There's this odd satisfaction in making Zayn dance to his tune, and Zayn keeps falling for it.

This isn't much different from playing truth or dare, Zayn decides.

And that's where the problem lies, really. Because those are things Zayn has learnt to shrug off and ignore. His whole school life has taught him how cruel people can be, that teasing is mean in essence. And then there's Liam: an almost stranger pushing at his buttons and succeeding at it. Effortlessly so, too.

Zayn hauls himself out the pool. Trap or not, he doesn't care. He's not holding pee in the whole evening, nor is he relieving himself in a pool. If anyone catches him, he'll say the truth: he can't navigate this house and Liam hasn't given him directions. Facts, and nothing else.

"You know your shyness is adorable, right?" He hears Liam call from behind him. To prove a point, he positions himself sideways, then whips it out, causing Liam to wolf whistle and clap. "The little one is my stepmother's favourite. Pee on that one."

The request begs for questions Zayn isn't allowed yet, doesn't know if he ever will. So, Liam has a stepmother and clearly isn't fond of her. What else does he have? A dog? Siblings? A tattoo hidden under his foreskin? Only Liam knows.

"Nice!" Liam welcomes Zayn with a high five and a wide grin. The smiles last as soon as it takes for him to realise Zayn hasn't washed his hands. Then, he's splashing Zayn and both are laughing. "Stay away, knob hands!"

Zayn snorts at Liam's dodging his hand. "You made me pee in the blooming bushes!"

Their play fight, with each trying to make the other smell his 'knob hand', ends up with Liam cornered. Trapped between Zayn's body and the corner, he has no way to escape without forcing his way out. But also Zayn is just hovering there, panting in synchrony.

"Come with me," Liam orders, lightly shoving Zayn out of his way. He places his hand on Zayn's chest for a split minute, but it lasts long enough that he might have felt the heartbeat. "You're trying something new."

It sounds good till Zayn has between his lips is a cigarette. Till then, he's fantasised about Liam's hand in his boxers, about his lips around Liam. Till then, he's imagined what Liam's pleasure moans and face look like. Till then, he's daydreamt about anything, including hand-holding and a goodnight kiss.

He'll settle for their naked knees bumping together by the pool, he supposes.

"This is terrible." He keeps coughing, eyes welling up in contrast to this burning in his throat. "Not for me."

"Seems I can't corrupt ya more than this," Liam laments. He grabs Zayn's wrist, retrieving his cigarette with his lips. "Can't believe it's your first cig. You're weak, mate."

 _You wouldn't believe how many 'firsts' I had tonight._ Zayn sticks his tongue out at Liam, though he too joins in the laughter. "Holly's really gonna kill you."

"Speaking of her—" Liam blows a stream of smoke, "—reckon she'd want to _party_ a bit?"

"She's not shagging you, you know," Zayn says. Whilst Liam doesn't take theatre seriously, Holly has it for her passion, and she's still be pissed off about today's rehearsal. Even more because she knows Liam's on the play for his looks and voice. "She's my best mate. I know her well."

However, Liam's mouth twists and his eyes narrow.

"She's your _only_ mate, Light Boy," he retorts. "She's the most popular girl in school... and you're not. No offence."

"Childhood friends." Zayn watches ripples form around his ankle, as he waddles his foot in the water. "She wasn't popular with her running nose back then." Liam's _"eww"_ immediately prompts some laughter. "Yeah, it used to be _tha'_ bad."

This small distraction won't clear anything up, so Zayn elaborates. When he says Holly won't shag Liam, he means just that: she won't. It has nothing to do with Liam's looks—and why would it for a conventionally attractive lad—and everything to do with her. She's not one for a casual shag. That's all.

"Have you even banged anyone in school?" Zayn questions after a moment. "I heard—sorry for tha'—you're all mouth and no trousers."

"From who, mate?" Liam leans forwards, whispering the next part, "Nobody talks to you."

Maybe this should also be included under questions Zayn can't ask yet. It's like the one subject that ruffles Liam's feathers, and the warm bloke is gone the next second. Split personality is off the table, nor does he think it's a case of two-facedness.

"Holly does." Zayn swallows a sudden lump in his throat. "And now you do, too."

One thing Zayn has learnt: wit will get him far. No, not in that way, but every time he earns himself an amused smirk, he knows he's good. At least, it's the only time Liam drops his defences.

"I just don't wanna date those girls only interested in my body," Liam admits. He leans back on his hands, staring at the glass ceiling above. "Maybe I'm just— Uhh... sensitive, or summat."

Zayn snorts. Not for doubting it, but— why hang out with Andy and his minions, then? This new titbit also doesn't help in making him less curious. Because he knows nothing about Liam outside of school. Again, they're functional strangers, not even proper acquaintances. And that explains Liam's 'you've called my mum bad names' face.

"Sod off! You don't know me!" he roars back.

"Neither do you." Zayn mirrors Liam's position. "Maybe we should start off with tha'."

"When did you turn into such a cheeky wanker, Light Boy?"

"Around the time you started the bad boy act for popularity, I suppose."

_Shit._

Sometimes, words come out of Zayn's mouth faster than he can ponder them. By now, he's seen how defensive Liam gets from getting poked like this. He's not looking for a reaction, nor does he want to screw up what's their first genuine chat. This calls for a subtle subject change.

"Have you gotten a blow job before?"

Okay, maybe not _that_ subtle, but surely sudden.

Liam cocks his head to the side in defiance. "Have you?"

"I asked ya first," he counters. "And I bet you haven't."

Yeah, yeah. This is derailing rather fast. Liam's scowl is also worrying. Hadn't Zayn known better, he'd think he's admitted to punching babies as a hobby.

"Is that an offer, Light Boy?" Liam leans in, brow still furrowed. "You really want it, don't ya?"

Again, Zayn mimics Liam. He's pushing his luck; he's not daft. This is him full-on in confrontational mode. A snowball rolling the hill, growing larger as it goes. He's gained momentum, and for that he can't stop. Physically can't tame his razor-sharp tongue.

"Or maybe _you_ want it and you're too scared to admit it," he shoots back.

"I. Don't. Want. Anything." Liam whispers, inching closer with every punctuation. By his last word, the minimal distance between their faces lets his breath tickles Zayn's lips. "I'm not queer, mate," he adds in his normal tone, backing off again.

It takes longer than Zayn would have liked to recover. He sucks his lips in, desperate to taste Liam's breath on them. His heart hammers his ribcage faster than before. The only peace comes from his stomach, though that's this odd ice chunk he feels at its pit.

As Liam slides back into the pool, the ditch between them grows wider. He swims away and away till he's on the other end. Their knees no longer touch, their breaths no longer are one. It's the farthest they've been since the ride here, and not merely physical distance. _Say something._

"I've never kissed anybody," Zayn blurts out. He's just as surprised as Liam's raised eyebrows accuse. "I'm almost 19, and I've never had a kiss."

And okay, maybe Zayn has expected some teasing. Nothing like Andy and Michael, but at some level, yes. A smirk, cooing, a straight-up fit of laughter, a pitiful look— anything but Liam's actual reaction.

"I've never"—Liam tilts his head side from side—"y'know."

It's Zayn the one to laugh.

"Sod off! I'm not the one who's never kissed anyone!" Liam protests, trying to splash Zayn from where he floats. "If you tell anybody, I'm pasting you."

Zayn does stop laughing, albeit not intimidated for longer than five seconds. But it's okay, because Liam bursts into giggling, too.

"Aww! You never been kissed?" Liam coos, now in the reign of his breathing again. He sinks till he has water up to his bone cheeks, then wiggles his forefinger towards himself. "Come here, Light Boy," he requests, smirking just above level water.

Does Zayn believe they'll kiss? No. He may be hopeful, dazed and a tad horny, but he's not daft. At most, he'll get flicked in the nose. However, Liam can lure him with as little as that. If there is more... The prospect of a kiss outweighs some knee-bumping, right?

Heart in his throat, Zayn slides back in the pool. This sudden mile between him and Liam isn't real, he knows. The pool hasn't grown larger, neither has Liam bent space-time. What he won't know, however, is what awaits him till he reaches Liam.

"Close your eyes," Liam whispers. Zayn obliges without a spare thought, breath caught in his throat when a hand grabs the nape of his neck. "No peeking."

Soft lips connect with Zayn's skin. This isn't a kiss like he'd expected. Well, _it is_ because a proper snog has never been in the cards. But it also isn't, when the corner of Liam's mouth brushes his.

Liam grins when Zayn's eyes open again. "Not bad for your first kiss, was it?"

What kiss? Because, right now, Zayn struggles to make sense of it all. A kiss, as he would have liked, has a lot more taste to it. More of soft lips, and a mix of champagne and cigarette. _That_ would be a kiss on Zayn's book. But what they've just shared? Not really.

And so, Zayn freezes for a moment. His thoughts, like sand in the wind, are everywhere. Trying to speak will make his voice crack, and only if he knows what to say. Can his lips even move, or they're with the rest of his body, spellbound? It has to be witchcraft to render him motionless.

Days can easily have gone by. Zayn wouldn't know. His mind is busy following Liam's figure out of the pool. _Busier_ when Liam lies down beside the pool, spread-eagled and drenched underwear exposing his modesty more than hiding it. _Fuck_.

"Five minutes, mate," Liam says, closing his eyes. "We'll do it again, then."

Whilst the break seems misplaced, it's plenty of time to work out something. What if Liam wants to do it the whole night? Not reciprocating would be rude, wouldn't it? Yeah, Zayn is sure it would. And he can't let that happen.

Zayn's eyes never lose focus. Quietly paddling his way, he gets out of the pool, crawling over Liam. He doesn't move; just waits for the droplets to make his presence known.

"What you're doing?" Liam whispers, a single eye open.

"I don't know." Zayn lets his gaze wander, then swallows when making eye contact again. "Paying back the favour, I suppose."

"You don't have to—"

The next second, a trail of kisses connects the strip of hair between Liam's pecs to the one beneath his navel. Zayn hasn't done it before, but he knows how he would like it. From now on, he'll rely on his internet knowledge and his _less-than-innocent_ dreams about Liam.

"Fuck, babe!"

Zayn smiles at the pet name. The hand that presses his face against Liam's wet boxers doesn't bother him, either. It's the opposite, actually. Liam's getting— _growing_ , he dares say—into it, and he's barely begun. Sadly, he doesn't have that much time, so he'll savour the moment later, in the solitude of his own room.

There's no prettier sound than Liam's small whimpers. That's the conclusion Zayn comes to. It's a nice sound rivalled by nothing else. It makes his heart flutter and his blood rush. It appeals to his soul as well as to his flesh. The more he hears it, the harder he tries to keep it going.

Fingers get tangled in dark, wet hair, and moaning increases. It's building up to something. That final moment when Liam will writhe and curl his toes. The moment his taste will take over Zayn's mouth, overwhelming his senses. They're so close—

" _Li-Li, sweetie, where are you?"_

If only they had two more minutes alone.

The female voice startles Liam. In his hurry to pull his boxers up, he knees Zayn in the face, knocking him back into the pool.

"Oh, we have guests," a lanky woman says when Zayn emerges again, still dizzy from the impact. She smirks at Liam, who has crumpled his trousers to cover his front, then turns to Zayn again. "Christina. Li-Li's stepmother."

Zayn nods. "Zayn. Li-Li's— I mean, _Leeyum's_..."

Liam's _what_? Can he say 'mate'? Would that be accurate when they have exchanged more words in the last two hours than their entire school life? Are blow jobs ice breakers? He's not going to ask for Christina's opinion, but...

"We're working on a play together, _Christina_ ," Liam fills her in, earning himself two curious gazes. "He's helping me with my lines."

"I suppose you two been getting... rowdy," Christina says, more to Zayn than to Liam. "Wipe your face and stay to eat with us, darling."

Zayn slaps a hand to his mouth, wiping at it frantically. He doesn't think Liam has— he would have felt the warmth, right? If it happened, then Liam won't ever talk to him ever again. _Shit._

Christina giggles, tapping her own nose. "Ask Li-Li for the first-aid kit."

Once she's disappeared inside the house, Liam scurries about for towels. Despite not saying much, his face says it all: he's as mortified as Zayn. His stepmum has certainly alluded to something _more_. And if his disdain earlier is justified, she's usually this nosey.

"Come with me," Liam urges, throwing the green towel to Zayn, whilst keeping the white one. He visibly flinches, then rectifies, "I mean, _follow_ me. Gotta take a look at your nose."

Zayn regrets pissing on Christina's statue earlier. There's a bathroom conveniently located by the pool. He's peed like a dog marking territory, when he could have used to it. What the hell?

"Stay still." Liam holds his chin up, wiping off the blood. "Doesn't seem broken. That pretty mug of yours is sturdy, innit?"

Zayn titters. Even as a joke, he's not used to compliments. "Same for your Muay Thai mean knee."

They don't take long, and it's understandable. They're two semi-naked lads locked in a bathroom. Add to it a suspicious stepmum, and they're set to blow their cover.

The only thing Zayn can blow tonight. _Thanks, Christina._

"Brand new again, Light Boy."

"Can you stop with the 'Light Boy' bollocks?" Zayn turns his upper body to the mirror, attesting that his nose is clean. He pushes the tip to check his nostrils, and they're also clean. "We're not strangers. I had your d—"

The sink keeps Liam from toppling them both. Zayn instinctively reaches for it behind him. This little gasp allows Liam's tongue deeper in his mouth. His mind goes hazy, whilst his face seems to melt in the hands cupping it. Large hands that easily frame his entire face.

Knees go weak, as a third leg slots in between Zayn's and creates heavy friction. The world spins faster and faster. His hands are for steadying himself, or otherwise he would grab Liam right back. In his current position, humping is all he can do to reciprocate. Kissing, sadly, isn't something he has mastered yet.

"Now we're even," Liam says, stepping away and licking his own lips. "Not bad for your real first kiss, right, _Zayn_?"

Wait. He's still wondering why mint has replaced the taste of cigarettes he'd expected from Liam. Too lost in thought to register a cough drop dancing on Liam's lips.

He blinks a few times. "You know my na—"

"I'll fetch you some clothes." Liam bends a bit, sliding off his soaked boxers underneath his towel. He then chucks them at Zayn's chest. "Better take that off, bro."

And Liam leaves, no other words spoken. His smirk just before closing the door, though, implies more to it. Whether or not it's another dare, _well_ , there's only way to find out.

Zayn stares at the discarded underwear on the floor. The spot it hit his chest not only is sticky at touch, but it also exudes that scent so characteristic to a long, vivid _,_ wet dream.

"Fuck," he whispers, contemplating tasting Liam off his fingers.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.


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